The mud sucked at my bare feet while I knelt, silent with shock. Rain poured over me like barrels of water being turned over at the same time. I fingered my red calico dress, breathing heavily. My fingers curled under my palm and pressed into it so hard that I almost drew blood.

Suddenly I felt a hand grasp my wet shoulder. I knew it must be my husband, Charlie. He knelt down beside me and put his arms around mine.

'I know, Jane.'� That was all he said as he hugged me tight against his chest and pressed his cheek next to mine. 'There will be others, Darling,'� he cooed. After a long pause he added, 'The funeral will be tomorrow.'�

'No! They can't put my baby in the ground! She'll suffocate!'� I wasn't ready to accept the fact that my little daughter, Sarah, not yet three months old, was dead. My first baby, our little girl! I was only sixteen then, and just barely. Charlie was seventeen. We'd been married for a year. We were so young, too young to be parents. Maybe that's why God took our little girl, I don't know, but right then, I told myself that she wasn't dead.

'Jane, Darling, she can't suffocate when she's dead already.'� Charlie sighed and pulled me onto his lap. He was so strong, I noticed for some reason, despite his scrawny, thin appearance.

I just laughed and laughed. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt, and suddenly the reality hit me. My roars of mirth turned into screams and sobs of sorrow. No, no, no! She was dead! This was all wrong! Plenty of women lost babies, but not me! It wasn't fair! I pressed my face against Charlie's strong chest and cried my heart out.

My wonderful husband just held me, and I think, though he wouldn't admit it, he cried to. For his baby, his little girl, and for me, for all my sadness and sorrow.

Oh, I don't know how all those men put up with the women when they lost babies. The women that wouldn't admit that their little children were dead. I think those men deserved a lot more than they got! I sure know Charlie did. But right now we were together. We'd help each other through hard times.

I smiled sadly at my husband. I knew he must be hurting just as bad as I was. Tears came to my eyes again. I pressed my face next to his and closed my eyes. Letting out a soft sob, I gripped his hand. My dear Charlie held my hand gently. When I opened my eyes I could see tears running down his cheeks, mixed in with the droplets of rain. Without saying a word, we were comforting each other.

We must have looked an awful sight, but that could be excused. After all, we'd just lost our first child. So we just sat there and cried on the big muddy prairie that afternoon in late March 1882. Just Charlie and me, mourning over our tiny child who was in Heaven now. Yes, she was in Heaven. The thought comforted me some. It still left an empty ache in my heart, but that sting of betrayal by God was gone. My baby was in Heaven, and now it was just Charlie and me.

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